At any cost! Her brothers had it practically—at least they had it far more than it seemed likely she would unless she exerted herself with quite exceptional vigor. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. It was Annabel’s. She took to listening through closed doors. Ramage.
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